One Winter's Day
by Shonetta
Summary: On a winter's day in Avonlea, young Anne Shirley takes a walk in the snow. Short story.


A short story about one of my all time favourite characters, from one of my all time favourite books, _Anne of Green Gables_ by L.M. Montgomery.

**One Winter's Day**

Snow fell softly over The Lake of Shining Waters, otherwise known as Barry's Pond, and from its bank Anne Shirley gazed out at the scene in rapture. Her thick red hair was braided, as always, and upon her head, tilting clumsily, was a blue beret. A matching scarf was wrapped around her neck, and a black woollen coat covered her thin body. On her feet were scruffy boots, boots that were presently dusted with snow, and beside them on the ground was a forgotten pile of firewood. Marilla had sent her out to gather some after lunch, saying that while they had enough logs to get through the promised snowfall, it was always wise to acquire extra stock. Anne had suspected the real reason was to get her out of the house for a while, as Marilla never liked to have her under feet when she was cooking, but whatever the reason, Anne had embraced the task enthusiastically and had gathered quite a pile of twigs. In doing so, she had wandered further from Green Gables than she'd intended, certainly further than Marilla had instructed, but she was on her way home now. Or at least, she had been until it started to snow. As soon as the white flakes of ice had started to fall, her imagination had taken flight and she was now lost in a world of her own.

Then, suddenly, an echo of her name called to her through the white silence around her and pulled her out of her fantasy.

"Anne! Anne Shirley!"

The voice was Marilla's and Anne turned around to find her approaching. The tall woman was wrapped up in black from head to foot, no part of her visible except for her face, and she was walking quickly.

"For mercy's sake, child," she cried as she neared, "what are you doing? What in heaven's name are you doing? Don't you know how worried I've been? Four hours, Anne. Four hours you've been gone!"

"I'm so sorry, Marilla," Anne answered. "I didn't meant to worry you. I must have lost all track of time. You know how easy it is for me to do that. But I'm fine, Marilla, as you can see, and I was on my way home now."

"That is not good enough, Anne! You've got to be more disciplined! I was worried sick as I didn't know what had happened to you!"

"Well, you've found me now, Marilla. All's well that ends well."

"Not if we both catch our deaths! Don't you have any consideration for others, Anne? I'm far too old to be traipsing around in this weather looking for forgetful little girls!"

"Oh, we won't catch our deaths, Marilla. A person can never catch their own death. At least, not unless they cut their throats or throw themselves into a river. Death always catches them. But the angel of death isn't here, Marilla. No, this is too beautiful a place for the reaper. It's a little heaven on Earth. At least, that is what people say when they see a nice place, that it's a heaven on Earth. But to me this place isn't heaven at all. If it was, then I would be dead, and I can't be dead because right now I feel more alive than a hundred daisies in a summer meadow! Look over there, Marilla, between those two tall trees. Do you know what I see there? The turrets of Camelot. They're glittering with snow and are reaching for the sky as though they have fingers. Inside them, King Arthur and his knights are feasting after a tournament, but I'm not celebrating with them. I'm Queen Isolde of Cornwall and I'm standing on this bank lamenting the departure of my beloved Tristram. I'm a guest of King Arthur's, you see, taking refuge from my cruel husband, King Mark, who will burn me alive for adultery if he finds me. Oh, I was just thinking how horrible it would be to be burnt alive for love, and yet so perfectly romantic at the same time, when you called out and broke the magic spell my mind had so carefully woven."

"And not a moment too soon!" Marilla retorted. "I'm very disappointed in you, Anne. I gave you a simple task, one a simpleton with half a brain could do, but once again you've failed me. What am I going to do with you?"

"I'm so terribly sorry, Marilla. I know I am a great trial to you. But I did get firewood, see?" She showed Marilla the pile of sticks on the ground. "And I was bringing them to you as quickly as my little feet could run in this cold, but then the heavens opened and the most exquisite flakes of snow began to fall. Oh, Marilla, I was so mesmerised by them that I lost myself in them. For the longest time I just gazed at their crystal beauty and imagined they were the frozen tears of angels weeping for all the sorrows of the world. But then I thought that was too sad a thought so, instead, I imagined they were tiny pieces of lace falling from the clouds as fairies make a winter dress for their queen. Oh, Marilla, that thought gave me such a thrill that I couldn't help but go on to imagine the dress. It was more beautiful than any dress you could ever imagine and was made of shimmering silver cloth woven by snow spiders. The lace, of course, was for the collar, but the sleeves...oh the sleeves...they were the puffiest and..."

Marilla cut her short. "I'm not in the least interested in imaginary dresses, much less their sleeves."

"Oh, but you would be interested in this one. It was the most..."

"All I am interested is in getting home before we both freeze to death. So, pick up that wood and let's get moving. Seeing as you've gathered it, we may as well take it. It'll dry out soon enough, I suppose."

"Of course it will, Marilla. And we won't freeze, I promise you that. Even though I'd rather have my eyes pecked out by birds, I'll feed my books to the fire before I let you and Matthew freeze."

"If you had your eyes pecked out by birds, the books would be no use to you."

"Oh, how very true, Marilla! But if I did have my eyes pecked out by birds, not that it is likely to happen, then you and Matthew would have to read to me. Oh, wouldn't there be something romantic about that, Marilla?"

"You haven't heard Matthew read. I'm sure a skunk could do a better job."

"True again, Marilla, I haven't heard him read. But if he did, I'm sure he would read as well as Tennyson. And even if he didn't, in my imagination he would. Not that I know how Tennyson sounded, but when I read his works, I hear him in my mind and his voice is so beautiful, so full of music, even though he isn't singing."

"Well, you'll be singing for your supper if you don't get a move on. Come on, girl, pick up that wood and hold your tongue."

"I'll do my best," Anne said, stooping to pick up the bundle of wood, "but my thoughts just always seem to need my tongue to express them. Why is that, do you think?"

"Because you have not yet learnt decorum and discipline. There is a time to speak and a time to be silent."

"I know," she replied, getting to her feet. "And I am silent sometimes. I could be now if I just let my mind drift across the lake to the castle and imagine the feast King Arthur and his knights are having. Oh, Marilla, I can just smell the food and hear the laughter. I can see Sir Launcelot too, dancing with Queen Guenevere under the King's unsuspecting gaze, and see his son, Galahad, praying on his knees while the knights get drunk and disorderly."

"Imagining drunk knights is hardly appropriate for a little girl," Marilla said, beginning to walk now Anne had gathered up all the firewood. "If you must imagine things, imagine more of the praying and less of the drinking."

"Oh, but I can't help it," Anne cried as she followed. "I have little control over what thoughts come into my head. It's like reading a book, Marilla, you don't know what's on the next page until you've seen it. The thoughts come to me like visions and all I can do is lose myself in them. It isn't like when I try to imagine something, because then I'm the author writing on the page. No, I'm just a spectator and I see what I see."

"Foolish nonsense. All thoughts can be controlled with a little discipline. If they could not, we could not be held accountable for them in the eyes of God. Remember, a wicked thought is just as sinful as a wicked deed."

"Oh, I wholeheartedly disagree with that, Marilla. If a person has wicked thoughts, but never acts on them, then they must surely have more credit with God for being good than the good person who never has to battle a sinful thought. No, I'm very sure God appreciates the effort, Marilla. He would be very mean otherwise."

"Anne Shirley, you should not talk that way."

"Why not? I'm not afraid of God like you, Marilla. Why should I be? If He really is all powerful, as you say, and as He must be if he made the world and everything in it only by thinking He wanted to make them, then he could blow me out of existence for offending Him as easily as we blow out a candle. But he's never blown me out, Marilla, even though I've offended Him many times, so He really must love us after all. And if He loves us, we don't have to be afraid. No, I've made up my mind never to be afraid of God, just to love him and thank him for making such a beautiful world. Because it really is beautiful, Marilla. When I was in the asylum, or living with Mrs Hammond, I used to think sometimes that it was a very cruel and wicked world...how could a little girl not think that when she has no one in the world to love her? I never cared for God then because He never cared for me. But now I know He did care after all because He sent me to you. And I will forever and ever be grateful for that, Marilla."

So too would Marilla, but she was not going to say as much. "Well, I'm glad you see that you are counting your blessings. When you first came, I was afraid you would be a heathen for life."

"If I hadn't of come to Green Gables, then I probably would have been. And when I died, I would stand forever on the bank of the river Styx, waiting in vain for Charon to ferry me to the Island of the Blessed. Oh Marilla, let it comfort you to know that you've saved me from eternal damnation. I really do think I would not have lived much longer had I stayed in the asylum. It broke my heart being there, Marilla. I know my heart is broken very easily, it's as fragile as china, but being there almost broke it beyond repair. But it's mended now and ready to live a long life. It's bigger too, I think. Not just because I'm growing, but because I'm fatter now you are feeding me wholesome food. I'm still far too skinny for my liking, but my figure is getting closer to Diana's every day. Oh, I would so love to look like Diana. Wouldn't you, Marilla? I mean, when you were young? When you get old, I don't suppose hair colour matters that much because it's white or gray, anyway. But when you're young, hair colour matters as much as the colour of your teeth. There was a girl in the asylum, Hecuba her name was, and she had terrible teeth. Half had fallen out and the rest were black. Coal black, Marilla. I felt so sorry for her. Redhair is a lifelong sorrow, but black teeth, and the name Hecuba, has to be a double curse. The only upside was that she was only five, so her big teeth hadn't come out yet. Maybe she'll grow up to have teeth as white as pearls. Wouldn't that be nice, Marilla? Oh yes, teeth as white as pearls, eyes as starry as a midnight sky, and hair as golden as the sun. Oh, I will forever imagine her that way now, an ugly ducking during her youth that turned into the most beautiful swan. Oh, her life will be just perfect then!"

"You place far too much importance on looks, Anne. It is a person's character that matters."

"I know. But it would be a much fairer world if good people were good looking and bad people were ugly."

"The Good Lord wants us to use our judgment, not our eyes, in discerning a person's goodness."

"But haven't you ever judged a person by their looks, Marilla, even though you know you shouldn't?"

"No, I have not," she answered, not quite with the honesty that she liked to answer with.

"Then you're a much better person than me because I have. Not on purpose, because I try to be charitable, but...oh!..oh!...oh!...oh!"

Marilla turned abruptly to the child. "What's the matter, Anne? Do you have cramp in your feet?"

Anne didn't answer, at least not the question. "Oh, Marilla...Oh look...look..."

Marilla looked where Anne's eyes were gazing, but all she saw were snow dusted trees. "Look at what, Anne? What do you see?"

"Queen Guenevere's coach. Oh, don't you see it in the shape of the trees? Oh, I do and it's so magnificent. It's made of the shiniest silver and is..."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Anne," Marilla rebuked,"stop this stuff and nonsense! These flights of fancy will put you in a mad house if they don't put you in a grave!" She then began to walk again. "Put your imagination to bed and keep your eyes on the road!"

"I'm trying, Marilla, truly, but I just can't help it. This place is so beautiful, more beautiful than it's ever been on the sunniest of days. Oh, I wish it would snow every day!"

"If it did, you would soon get tired of it and then would make all this fuss over a bit of sun. Snow is nothing but an almighty inconvenience."

"Oh, but don't you think it's pretty?"

"Not when I'm shovelling it from the doorstep at the crack of dawn."

"But that's hardly the snow's fault, Marilla. It's the doorstep's for being greedy and gathering so much of it! What would you rather be, Marilla? A door or a doorstep? I'd rather be a door. Doorsteps probably live longer, but they get stepped over all the time and I'd hate to spend my whole life getting stepped over. But a door never gets stepped over, it only gets opened and closed. A door gets all the admiration too. No one ever admires a doorstep, but everyone admires a handsome door. But of course, I wouldn't want to be any old door. I'd want to the front door of a respectable family. When Mr Hammond came home drunk, he would kick in the front door and I'm sure it hurt the door to be kicked like that. No, I'd rather be the back door of a respectable family than the front door of a drunk's."

"Mr Hammond," Marilla asked, cautiously and uncomfortably, "did he ever...did he ever display violence towards you?"

"If you're asking whether he hit me, then let me put your mind at ease by saying he never did. He pushed me out of the way once, and I hit my head on a table, but other than that he never laid a hand on me. He would beat Mrs Hammond something awful, though. He would punch her with his fists and beat her with a poker."

"That must have been very frightening for you," Marilla said, sympathy in her voice.

"It was. Terrifyingly frightening. But I couldn't cry because that would upset the children more than they were upset already. I had to be strong for them. But sometimes I wished I was the poker he was hitting her with so, when he took a swing at her, I could swing right back at him and knock him out. I know it was probably wicked of me to have such thoughts, but if you'd seen the bruises on her when he was done, you'd have wished it too. Why do you think God made Mr Hammond, Marilla? His wife used to say he was a good for nothing and I cannot say I disagree with her, even though it gives me little pleasure to agree with her in anything."

"We are all born innocent, Anne. It's up to us how we turn out. Some folks have an advantage, I won't deny that, but God expects us to be good and honest no matter what circumstances we are in."

"Mr Allen says that God is often disappointed by the way some folks turn out. Do you think that's true?"

"Yes, I do. I'm sure God was very disappointed by Mr Hammond's behaviour. God does not always intervene in such situations, because humans have to suffer the consequences of human behaviour, but that doesn't mean He doesn't care or isn't horrified at the choices some humans make. That's why it's important to always be the best people that we can be. Our actions hurt innocents. That's the unfortunate consequence of freewill."

"I understand, Marilla. I didn't once, as I thought it was God's fault that people do bad things, but now I see that it isn't. Mr Hammond chose to be a drunk and God couldn't stop him without taking away his freewill. But I do think God intervened, Marilla. Because while He couldn't change what was in Mr Hammond's head without taking away freewill, he could strike him dead and He did. When he died, lots of folks said he'd been struck down by the hand of God for his wicked ways and I believe it."

"Such things are not for us to speculate on," Marilla said, trying to hide her satisfaction at the thought of a wicked man like Mr Hammond being struck down for his sins. "What God thinks of folk is between them and God."

"I know, but...Oh, Marilla, do you hear that?"

Behind them, getting louder, was the sound of crunching footsteps on the road.

"I do," Marilla said, turning around to look.

"Maybe it's Sir Tristram come looking for his love," Anne said. "If I close my eyes I can see him perfectly. He's brandishing a sword and is dressed in the most dazzling armour of ruby red. On his helmet is the token of his lady and..."

"Stop talking, Anne, and open your eyes," Marilla urged. "Then you'll see it's Diana Barry."

Anne opened her eyes, turned around, and saw that the figure on the road was indeed her bosom friend. The dark haired girl was running wildly, untidily dressed in a red coat, and was sobbing her heart out. At Diana's distress, Anne dropped the firewood she was holding and seized her friend.

"Oh, Diana," she exclaimed. "What's the matter?"

"I...I'm running away," the girl wept.

Marilla spoke. "Running away? What nonsense is this?"

"What's happened, Diana?" Anne asked. "What tragedy has befallen you? Has your father gone mad and killed your mother and Minnie May?"

"No," she answered. "I've broken Mother's favourite vase."

Anne gasped, as though this revelation was as bad as the one she had imagined. "The white one, with a rose on it, that has been in your family for three generations?"

Diana nodded.

"Oh, Diana," she exhaled, "my heart weeps for you!"

"What am I going to do, Anne? She'll kill me for sure."

"Stuff and nonsense," Marilla said. "No parent will kill their child over a broken vase. Pull yourself together, Diana. Go home and tell your mother what has happened."

Anne turned to Marilla. "You are wrong, Marilla. I read in a book once of a mother who killed her daughter over a broken teacup. Imagine how much greater the rage will be over a beloved family heirloom!"

"A mother who kills her daughter over a teacup is either wicked or insane," Marilla reasoned. "Mrs Barry is a good, Christian, woman and will undoubtedly be quite reasonable. Part of growing up, Diana, is learning to take responsibility for our actions. If you broke the vase by accident, your mother will forgive you. If you broke it due to rambunctious behaviour, she will punish you as she sees fit."

"With all due respect," Anne said, "you don't know Mrs Barry as well as we do. She gets frightfully angry when she is cross. Once I thought she was going to turn into Medusa as she got so red and ugly." She turned back to Diana. "But was it an accident, Diana? Did Lady Misfortune spite you?"

"I don't know about that," Diana answered, "but it was an accident. I was dusting the ornaments in the parlour, as Mother instructed me to, when I saw a big spider on the wall and I dropped the vase in fright. Oh Anne, one moment it was in my hands and the next it was a million pieces on the floor."

Suddenly, Mrs Barry's voice called to Diana in the distance.

"Oh, she's coming," Diana cried. "Oh, help me, Anne!"

"Don't worry, Diana," Anne said, "I won't forsake you in your time of need. We'll endure this trial together. Get behind Marilla and me and we'll pretend we haven't seen you."

"We'll do no such thing," Marilla said as Mrs Barry appeared from around a bend, "we'll sort out this matter right here, right now."

Mrs Barry, as hastily wrapped up as her daughter, came running over breathlessly. "Oh, Diana," she cried, putting her hand on her heart, "here you are! Oh, thank heaven!" She then glanced at Marilla and Anne. "Miss Cuthbert, Anne...hello."

"Good afternoon, Mrs Barry," Marilla said formerly.

With tears streaming down her face, Diana addressed her mother. "I'm so sorry, Mother. I didn't mean to break the vase."

Anne suddenly flung herself onto her knees and clasped her hands together as though she was in prayer. "Oh, Mrs Barry, please forgive Diana this transgression. She truly didn't mean to break your beloved heirloom. Just as she was dusting it, most tenderly and carefully I must add, a big black spider crept up a wall beside her. You know how terribly afraid Diana is of spiders, even the littlest ones, and this one was gigantic. Terror filled her heart and the vase, the precious, precious, vase, slipped from her fingers and smashed on the floor. Oh, imagine Diana's horror and grief at that, Mrs Barry. It was so overwhelming that all she could do was flee from the scene. Oh, forgive her, Mrs Barry. For the sake of a poor orphan who has never had a bosom friend before, don't punish her so harshly that she loses the will to live. Please, Mrs Barry, I beg you."

To everyone's surprise, Mrs Barry laughed. "Of course I'm not going to punish you, Diana. I know you didn't mean to break the vase. "

A light filled Diana's eyes. "You're not angry?"

"Of course not, child. Why on Earth would I be?"

"But you love the vase."

Mrs Barry laughed again. "Love it? Oh, Diana, I loathe it! I've never seen a more hideous vase in all my life! I only have it on display to please your Great Aunt Josephine."

"Really?" Diana said, still not quite believing her eyes and ears. "I'm not in trouble?"

"For heaven's sake no!"

Diana smiled now and hugged her mother in joy and relief. Her mother hugged her back and, as they embraced, Anne got to her feet.

"For my knees sake too," she said. "If I had to kneel on that ground any longer they'd have gotten frost bite. But I would gladly lose my knees to save your life, Diana."

With a smile, Mrs Barry drew away from her daughter. "You are the queerest child, Anne," she said, "but you do amuse me so." She then put her hand on Diana's shoulder. "Now, come on, Diana. Let's go home and warm ourselves up with a hot drink."

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Mrs Barry," Marilla said. "Anne and I will do the same."

"We'll have warm milk and honey, no doubt," Anne said. "Oh, I so love warm milk and honey. I never had it until I got to Green Gables because honey is too expensive to give to poor orphans. Sometimes I would lie awake at night imagining what it would taste like, something inbetween sugar and syrup, I thought, but when I first tasted it, I..."

"All right, Anne," Marilla said firmly, but not unkindly, "that is enough. We don't want to give Mrs Barry an earache with our chatter. Neither do we want to catch a chill. This is no weather to stand around chatting in."

"It certainly isn't," Mrs Barry agreed. "So, let's all be on our way. Good afternoon, Miss Cuthbert, Anne."

"And to you," Marilla replied.

"Goodbye, Diana," Anne said, hugging her friend. "See you tomorrow at church...that is if it doesn't snow too much for us to get there."

"See you then," Diana smiled "Goodbye."

Diana and her mother then left and Anne watched them go until they turned the bend and were gone. Then Anne hurried after Marilla, who had already started to walk.

"Life is so very full of surprises, isn't it, Marilla? First it was a surprise to see Diana, especially in such a state, and then it was a surprise that her mother found the whole thing amusing. Mrs Barry definitely has a greater sense of humour then I've ever given her credit for. I can't say I liked the vase either. Oh, the rose was a pretty colour, something inbetween pink and purple, but it was hideously painted, Marilla. It looked like a five year-old had done it. No, I think that would be an insult to five year-olds because I'm sure many of them paint better. Not me, I couldn't paint to save my life at five and I still can't, but there was a girl at the asylum who was a great artist. Amelia, her name was. Isn't that such a lovely name? I wish I was called Amelia. She could draw amazing pictures in the soil outside with just a twig. Maybe she'll become a world famous artist some day. I hope so. She was adopted a month before me and I'm so glad. I don't think she would ever reach her full potential in the asylum. There's nothing worse than an asylum for stifling creativity. I just hope her new family are as good to her as you and Matthew are to me. I think Mrs Blewett would have treated me horribly and I hope with all my heart Amelia hasn't gone to a Mrs Blewett called something else. I will add her to my list of people to pray for. I've taken to doing that, Marilla. I don't like to burden God with too many requests in one night, because I always have a lot, so I'm trying to spread them out a bit. Of course, I don't expect God to answer all my prayers, but if He only answers some I am extremely grateful."

"I'm very glad to hear it. And I hope you tell God so. It is more important to thank God for our blessings than to ask for things."

"I do, Marilla. I thank him every night. And it takes a while because I have so much to be thankful for now. I never thought my life could be as good as this, Marilla. I know I complain a lot, and get upset about things that are really quite trivial, but I'm happier now than I have ever been in my whole life. And I'm so glad because there's nothing more important than being happy, is there, Marilla?"

Marilla, always wanting to infuse moral wisdom into her answers, was about to say that being good was more important than being happy, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, a buggy came into view in the distance. It was coming towards them, silent like a ghostly carriage, but as it got closer the sound of its wheels turning, and the hooves of its horses on the ground, filled the air.

"Clear the way," Marilla said, pushing Anne towards the side of the road. "Let's give it room to pass."

"Oh, Marilla," Anne exclaimed, "I'm so glad you can see it too. I though it was either a phantom or a fragment of my imagination. I've dreamt so much about carriages and queens today, and sometimes when I dream about things for too long, they muddle up my mind so I don't know what is real and what isn't."

"Don't I know it. But I assure you the buggy is real. Now, walk in front of me, that's a good girl."

Anne did as she was told and they walked down the road in a single file. Then, suddenly, Anne stopped walking and turned in panic to her guardian. "Oh Marilla," she cried. "We've forgotten the firewood! Oh, I'd better get it!"

She was just about to sprint for it, when Marilla caught her arm. "Not so fast, child. Do you want to be run over? Wait for the buggy to pass."

The buggy was almost upon them now and the driver came into view.

"Well, I never," Marilla exclaimed. "It's Matthew!"

Anne smiled when she saw that it was indeed him. "So it is, Marilla. Oh, what a blessing! He's come for us, I know he has. And I'm so glad, Marilla, because I'm starting to get terribly cold. I'm not as fat as you, you see, so I get cold much quicker. That's another bad thing about being skinny. You need all the more clothes to stay warm."

Matthew brought the buggy to a stop now and Anne hurried over to it.

"Oh, Matthew," she cried, "hello, hello!"

"Hello, Anne," he smiled, "Marilla. "I was kinda getting worried so thought I'd come a lookin'."

"Oh, there was no need for you to worry, Matthew," Anne said. "We are perfectly fine. I just got distracted while collecting the firewood and lost all track of time. But Marilla found me and we were just on our way home. But I'm ever so glad you came looking as my poor little body is starting to get real cold. Oh, and Matthew, guess who we saw just now? Diana Barry. She'd broken an antique vase while dusting and was running away, fearing her mother's wrath. But then Mrs Barry came after her and said she'd never liked the vase anyway. Oh, Matthew, my little heart leapt for joy at that. I was so afraid she would lock Diana in her bedroom forever! But I was clearly very wrong about Mrs Barry. She's not like Medusa at all. I'm rather sorry now that I said she was."

"I'm glad it all worked out," Matthew said, always a man of few words.

"So am I. Ecstatically glad. I don't know what I'd do if I lost Diana, Matthew. I think I would die of a broken heart. Some people say it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but I'd rather have never had a bosom friend than to lose one. Then I wouldn't know what I was losing. But, on the other hand, I wouldn't change what Diana and I have shared for anything, so maybe there is some truth in that saying after all."

Matthew turned to Marilla. "Would you like a hand getting into the buggy, Marilla?"

"No, thank you," she answered curtly. "I'm not so fragile that I can't climb in. Lord knows, keeping house after you keeps me agile enough." She turned to Anne. "Now, before you begin to exercise your tongue again, go and fetch that firewood."

"I'm there before my legs, Marilla," Anne said. "I read that in a play once and I..."

"Go," Marilla urged. "Now!"

Anne curtsied in submission. "Yes, Ma'am. Not another word."

With that, she ran down the road to where she had left the firewood and carefully picked up the twigs. Then, with the bundle under her arm, she ran back to the buggy. Marilla was waiting, holding on to her hat against a wind that had suddenly started to blow, and she helped Anne load the wood into the buggy. Then the two ladies of Green Gables climbed into the buggy and made themselves comfortable as Matthew turned it around.

"That's it," Matthew said as the buggy straightened out, "we're on our way home."

Anne smiled and then leant against Marilla's shoulder. "Home," she said dreamily. "There really is no place like it, is there? I always wondered what it would be like to have a home, a real home, but now I know and it's more wonderful than I could ever have imagined. I don't ever want to leave Green Gables. Even when I die, I don't want to leave. I'll live there as a ghost."

"Anne Shirley," Marilla scolded, "don't speak such blasphemy."

"I'm sorry, Marilla. I didn't mean to offend God. I know He has a place in Heaven for me when I die, and I'm grateful, I truly am, but as Green Gables is like Heaven to me, you can't blame me for not wanting to leave."

"No, but you'll leave when the world, or some boy, takes your fancy. That's the natural way of things."

"I suppose. I just can't imagine living anywhere else. And believe me, Marilla, if I can't imagine something then it really must be unimaginable."

"That," Marilla said, "I can believe. Now, rest your tongue a while or this cold air will give you a sore throat."

"Don't worry, Marilla, I was just about to be quiet. This ride in this snow is so magical that I want to lose myself in it completely. I can't do that when I'm talking."

"Then let us enjoy the ride and say no more."

Anne nodded and then gazed out at the winter wonderland before her. The snow was falling heavier now and the wind was starting to howl. Anne let her thoughts drift back to the days of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, and in no time at all, she was lost in another world. Marilla, glad of the silence, even if it did mean Anne's mind was a million miles away in some fantasy realm, wrapped her sturdy arm around the dreaming child. It was to keep her warm, she told herself, and not to indulge a foolish sentiment. But there was no denying that this little girl had come to occupy a very special place in her heart, a place that before had been cold and empty. One day, Anne really would be gone. She would grow up, most likely get married, and have a home of her own. But until that day, that day that made her heart lonely just to think of it, this precious little girl beside her would be hers, her Anne, Anne of Green Gables.

THE END


End file.
